erosion

A lilac sky lies over winter-black hills and I wonder why you chose me.

You stumble and seem alarmed at having been asked a question directly.

I think I did that to you.

I see now that I am like wind, like water;

who could stand before me?

I have bent your will.

I have tried to make you into what I myself long to be.

But your nature resists and

I was wrong to try.

I will alter my banks and flow another way.

What force will shape you then?